


Work Song

by LiviKate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baby Fic, Bottom Derek, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Parents Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, adjusting to adulting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiviKate/pseuds/LiviKate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles adjust to life with a new baby, their first. She's beautiful and amazing. No wonder Stiles spends all his time spoiling her now. Still, Derek has a hard time sharing the attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work Song

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, because I am trash. Title from the Hozier song by the same name because I suck at naming things and "Sterek Kidifc" wouldn't cut it.
> 
> From a prompt of OTP Prompts: Imagine that person A of your OTP always showers person B with all of their attention.
> 
> Then your OTP has a baby.
> 
> Now A has to split their attention between their lover and their child, and B realizes just how much A actually spoiled them.

“She’s beautiful,” Stiles said, voice wet with awe as he held their new baby for the first time.

“Yeah,” Derek breathed, wiping sweat from his brow.

“She’s got your eyes.” Stiles whispers, gently brushing his knuckle across her pink and splotchy cheek.

“They could change,” Derek mumbled, resting his head against Stiles. “Babies’ eyes can go from blue to brown within the first year, we won’t know which they’ll be for a while. They’ll probably be brown.”

“I don’t know,” Stiles hummed contentedly. “My dad has light eyes, it’s still possible.”

“I don’t care,” Derek said tiredly, happily. “She’s perfect.”

“She is perfect,” Stiles agreed. He dropped his hand from his baby daughter’s cheek to hold his partners hand. “How you doing, Der, still hurting?” he asked, squeezing their hands gently.

“Much better now,” he answered, eyes shining, memorizing the sound of his pup’s heartbeat now that she was out in the world.

“I'm fine, too, thanks,” Core grumbled from the hospital bed, where Lydia was diligently dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth. “Just gave birth over here, but sure, check up on him first.”

Stiles smiled up at her, seemingly incapable of any emotion other than pure love. Derek, though, was always capable of pulling together a frown, even if this one was dampened by the tears in his eyes.

“You broke my hand, like, four times,” Derek complained halfheartedly, pulling Stiles and the baby to the bedside to thank Cora properly.

“Turns out, babies hurt,” Cora grumbled. “You’re having the next one,” she said to Lydia, who just raised one perfect brow and smiled indulgently.

“What’re you going to name her?” she asked the boys, standing to get a cup of water for her girlfriend, cooing at the baby when she walked past.

“We’re thinking Tara,” Derek said, curling his newly healed hand around his sister’s, his other hand wrapped around Stiles’ waist. Cora nodded approvingly.

“Couldn’t decide between Talia and Laura, huh?”

“Nope,” Derek said, taking his daughter carefully from Stiles. “So here’s your niece, Tara Cesia Stilinski-Hale.”

 

The next three months pass with very little sleep and very sore cheeks.

Stiles’ face permanently adopts this dumb looking smile, dopey and sleepy and so completely in love. Derek stops shaving completely after the first time Tara giggled delightedly at feeling the scratchy hairs on her cheeks. He can’t stop scenting her. Scott gives his goddaughter all the clothes and toys his and Allison’s first kid outgrew years ago and Stiles exclaims that Tara wears them better. Lydia buys her only the newest and finest baby apparel and is endless in her forgiveness when Tara spits up and drools all over them.

Stiles says the hardest day of his life was the first day he had to go back to work. Derek agrees. Taking care of a little baby is a lot harder to do on your own. Luckily, Boyd and Erica are around all the time, always offering to babysit so Derek can escape for some food or a much needed shower. Derek thinks Boyd is trying to convince Erica to start a family of their own, and while it’s not working yet, Boyd always has he best luck at getting Tara to laugh, much to Stiles’ dismay. Erica still thinks they’re not ready yet, but her heart does tend to melt when she sees Boyd holding a tiny, squirmy baby in his big hands and looking very happy about it.

Derek made her crib by hand. Sitting on the newly varnished porch of the Hale house, Cora hiding inside from the fumes but the butterfly heartbeat inside her always fluttering in his ears. The Hale children, and Talia and Peter before them all slept in the same crib, made by the claws of their grandmother. Derek made a new one, and as Stiles watched it slowly coming together, he covered each splinter with as many protective charms and blessings he knew. Derek could feel the magic of it under his claws as he carefully decorated it with the phases of the moon. After each new section was completed, Derek would go find Cora and his baby growing in her and whisper to it everything he would do to keep it safe.

When Stiles and Derek had decided to start a family, the plan had been adoption. But, remembering her own family and the way her Dad had been so obsessed with the shape and sound of her little brother growing inside her mother, Cora offered to surrogate instead. Derek still says he didn’t cry. Derek Hale is a liar.

A couple weeks after Tara was born, Stiles took her to meet her grandmother. Leaning against the headstone was a picture frame. Sherriff Stilinski had already made the introductions, it seemed. There were pictures of Tara in the Hale plot, too.

Grandpa Stilinski could not get enough of his granddaughter and often took her to work with him. Many badges were stripped from khaki shirts and returned to besotted deputies well slobbered. Derek and Stiles had both agreed that they could only start a family once Beacon Hills had calmed the fuck down. After two years of quiet, they decided it was time. When Cora was three months along, and Stiles had already read all the baby books he could, he completed the nesting process with some good old-fashioned blood magic that nearly ripped the soul right from his body. Derek was furious, but the Nemeton was nothing more than sawdust and Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. He’d done it for their family.

Stiles missed Tara’s first steps, and Derek is too inept with his smartphone to have been fast enough to record it. Stiles was so distraught he nearly lost his job by calling in sick for eight days in a row. Derek mocks him for it, but Stiles, who is very quick with his smartphone, just plays the recording of Derek crying after Tara flashed wolf eyes at him for the first time.

Stiles always comes home, vibrating with excitement, the words “Where’s my little moonbeam?” tumbling from his lips as soon as he tumbles through the doorway. Derek and Tara are normally playing on the floor, and Stiles takes great joy in swooping in and plucking his daughter from the carpet and swinging her into the air. Depending on how much sleep and help he got that day, Derek will either stay on the floor and watch his partner dance adorably with their daughter, or he’ll drag himself to his feet and help with dinner.

Its beautiful, and its perfect, just like their baby.

Derek can’t think of a single other thing he needs in his life.

 

 

He doesn’t notice a thing has changed until one Saturday morning, five months after Tara was born.

He woke up leisurely, half hard and warm. Late morning sunlight lit the room and Derek stretched a sleepy arm out to Stiles’ side of the bed. Finding it cold, he pulled his face from the pillow and checked for the baby monitor. It was missing from the table on his side of the bed, which meant Stiles had gotten up early with the baby and took the monitor with him, leaving his partner to sleep in peace.

Derek frowned, hearing the two of them in the kitchen, Tara cooing happily and Stiles cooking while singing to her. Derek pulled himself out of bed, heedless to his nakedness, and padded softly down the stairs

“Morning,” he yawned, stepping into the kitchen and sliding his hands around his lover’s waist.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Stiles commented casually, reaching back to grab a handful. Derek merely hummed in his ear and nipped delicately. Stiles huffed and shook him off, turning quickly to peck him on the lips before focusing back on the pancakes. “Say hello to your daughter.”

Derek turned to the baby bouncer in the corner of the room, out of Stiles’ way but still in his line of sight as he cooked. He scooped the baby up, blowing a kiss into her stomach before returning to blanket his partner’s back, child in hand this time.

“Looks good,” he commented, hooking his chin over his shoulder and gazing down the length of his naked chest. The arm not holding their infant child snuck around his hips, pinky finger sliding into the band of his flannel pants.

“Down, boy,” Stiles chuckled, “We’ve got a baby on board.” Tara very helpfully slapped them both clumsily in the cheeks.

“We used to have the best Saturday mornings,” Derek commented, thinking back to mornings spent lounging in bed, lazy, messy sex and breakfast eaten twined together against the kitchen counter.

“This is the best Saturday morning,” Stiles said, giving Derek a curious look before turning his focus to the baby blowing spit bubbles in his arms, face lighting up with the silliest smile and the brightest kind of love. Stiles’ long fingers wrapped around Tara’s light green onesie and pulled her up away from the wolf and over both their heads, continuing his train of thought for her benefit by saying “yes it is, it’s the best, yes it is,” in the most endearing baby voice Derek had ever had to hear. Derek smiled, the thought of morning blowjobs pushed aside, settling happily instead for kissing the moles on Stiles’ cheek.

“Good for a little longer?” he asked.

“Yeah, Der, go shower, breakfast will be ready when you get out.”

In the shower, Derek had a hard time recalling when he and Stiles had both been naked together at the same time. As he watched his come run down the drain, he couldn’t help but miss the easy way Stiles used to be lured to sex. He was always so willing to touch, to hold, so eager to get his hands everywhere. Derek thought that he missed the orgasms much less than the contact. Quiet intimacies had been left by the wayside as Tara eclipsed their world.

Last night, Derek had fallen asleep listening to Stiles sing polish lullabies over the baby monitor. It had been hard to do, despite his exhaustion after a busy Friday. It was always hard to sleep without Stiles next to him. Sometimes it was still hard even with him there, and Stiles would rub his head or scratch his back until one or both of them drifted of. Derek doesn’t remember the last time the two of them fell asleep together.

Since Tara, there were a lot less Netflix marathons, or sex marathons, or breakfasts in bed, or Stiles’ taking surprise pictures of Derek and framing them in his office, or Stiles’ bringing home flowers or books, or Stiles shoving him into a bathtub and reading to him, or Stiles demanding they let dinner burn and dance in the kitchen.

Stiles did a lot for Derek. He has all these dozens of ways of telling him he loved him, and while Derek knew the sentiment was still the same, their absence left a pocket of longing in his chest.

Derek was toweling his hair, staring forlornly at the rumpled but clean sheets of their bed when her heard a call of “Here, wolfy wolfy,” from down the stairs. He rolled his eyes and huffed a quiet laugh, one he knew Stiles wouldn’t hear. He returned downstairs to see Stiles already hallway done with Tara’s breakfast, eggs mashed in her tiny hands and a jar of baby food upended on her tray. He stood in the doorway for a moment, leaning against the wall, watching his family.

Tara waved an eggy fist at him and spit onto her chin in delight. Derek smiled again, and Stiles looked over his shoulder, eyes dimming slightly as they looked at him.

“Something wrong?” he asked, wiping their daughter’s face without even needing to look. “You’ve got a classic Sourwolf look on right now.”

“What? I’m smiling,” Derek argued, taking a seat at their tiny table, bumping his knee into his partner’s and making a face at the baby.

“Not all of you,” Stiles answered assuredly, turning back to the messy highchair and its babbling occupant. “I am an expert in Derek’s Broody Body Language, it was my best class in high school, remember?” the smile he tossed back over his shoulder was so carefree and breathtakingly beautiful that it made Derek’s ribs feel sharp.

Stiles didn’t push the matter, seemingly forgetting about in favor of scooping pureed vegetables into a puddle, and that’s likely why Derek ended up blurting out the truth.

“I think I’m jealous of our baby,” he admitted, the words out before he could rethink them. Stiles sat up straight in his seat, turning to look at the wolf with an incredulous look.

“Is this because I didn’t blow you this morning? You didn’t get your Saturday morning blowjob?” he asked, looking like he didn’t know if he should be laughing or not.

“We haven’t done Saturday blowjobs in twenty Saturdays,” Derek grumbled, picking his pancakes apart with his hands. Stiles scoffed at him, passing the syrup distractedly.

“Tara’s barely twenty Saturdays old,” he said and Derek met his gaze with a simply raised eyebrow. “Oh,” Stiles said. “Well, hey, all couples have less sex after a baby,” he reasoned. Derek swallowed his bite and kept his eyes on the tabletop.

“It’s not the sex,” he said quietly. “I miss you, I guess.”

As far as declarations went, he could’ve done better. But Stiles’ face softened as his heart melted. He checked to make sure the baby was secure in her highchair before scrambling around to Derek’s side of the table and into his lap. Long, bare arms wrapped around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles breathed into the damp hair behind his ear.

“Don’t be, ‘s dumb,” Derek said, nuzzling his face into the curve of his partner’s neck.

“It’s not dumb, you’re right,” Stiles said, pulling back to press a kiss to worried lips. “I haven’t been spoiling you nearly as much as you’re used to.” Derek rolled his eyes and shoved at Stiles playfully.

“It’s not like that,” he defended, ears tipping pink.

“Oh, it so is,” Stiles argued happily, dark eyes grinning with mirth. “I totally spoiled you and now you’re having a hard time sharing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have spoiled me, then,” Derek countered, running his hands over his mate’s back to feel the blood-hot- _alive_ power underneath his skin.

“No, you deserve it,” Stiles countered quietly, pressing their mouths together, hands cradling Derek’s neck. They kissed for a couple quiet moments, existing together in a moment of their own making. Stiles pulled away at the sound of a spoon hitting the floor and delighted laughing from the highchair. Foreheads pressed together, Derek took a deep breath of his mate.

“What do you say to giving Boyd and Erica the day, hmm?” Stiles asked. “I’d planned on taking Tara to the park today, there’s a picnic packed in the fridge,”

“We can do that today,” Derek hurried to say. “That sounds nice, we can do that if you want to.”

“No, you’re right, we need some us time,” Stiles said, pressing one last kiss to Derek’s forehead before sliding out of his lap and heading towards the stairs. “You call Boyd, I’ll get a bag together for her.”

Derek grinned at his daughter as he removed her from her seat and took her to the kitchen to get cleaned up. He was just finishing up washing breakfast out of her hair when he heard Stiles in the nursery over the monitor, singing his “I’m gonna get laid today,” song happily under his breath. It took the squirmy baby in his arms to remind him that he wasn’t actually in love with a teenager.

 

 

A handful of hours later and Derek and Stiles were shutting the front door, their giggling baby on the other side, happily clapping her clumsy hands against Uncle Boyd’s smiling cheeks.

Stiles didn’t even wait for them to get out of earshot, he latched onto Derek as soon as the lock slid home. He drug him to the stairs by the grip he held on his hair and the sheer magnetism of his mouth on Derek’s. He stumbled, predictably, attempting to climb the stairs backwards, but that only added to the heat as Derek laughed lovingly at the flailing limbs and inelegant cursing.

They shoved and pushed their way into the bedroom, clothes shedding like skins as they hit the bed. Stiles slid on top, biting at his ribs, tickling and teasing.

“Is there another baby daddy has to take care off?” he asked, eyes gleaming and Derek groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes and shoving at Stiles’ laughing face with the other hand.

“Don’t you dare make this weird,” he begged. “That was weird, never do it again. I am seriously reconsidering my choice in life-mate right now.” Sties just cackled joyously, pawing at the arm still covering Derek’s face. “Seriously, never again.”

“Never again,” Stiles agreed easily. “I’ve been sitting on that for forty minutes, though, I had to.”

“You’re the worst,” Derek complained, running one hand through his partner’s hair, the other squeezing along the soft skin of his arm.

“The best,” he corrected, leaning down to set his teeth against the throbbing in Derek’s throat. If he had had anything left to say, it was lost on a gusty exhale as Stiles bit down. Derek’s hips bucked up and his hands clenched where they held his lover.

“Really, though,” Stiles said wetly, sliding his mouth down to breathe hotly over his nipple. “I do plan on spoiling you today.”

Derek grunted his response and held on tighter as Stiles slid down his body, pressing his face into his groin. It had been so long since he’d had Stiles’ tongue on him, the heat of it was almost shocking as it swirled around the head of his cock, flickering teasingly into the slit before stroking down the length. Stiles licked and sucked, laving attention on his cock like he hadn’t experienced in weeks. As soon as he was wet enough to slide slickly through Stiles’ fist, mole-dotted shoulders were shoving themselves under his thighs, pushing them up and out.

“Can I?” Stiles asked, asking more for assurance of cleanliness than permission, and Derek’s heart jolted at the hungry tone of his voice.

He nodded and reached down, cupping the back of Stiles’ neck, knowing it aches when he does this for too long, and eagerly hoping Stiles will make himself sore with it. The first flicker of slick muscle against his hole is a revelation, and the second punches out the reverent gasp he’d drawn. Derek groans, long, drawn out and grateful as Stiles sets diligently to taking him apart.

Each sweep and prod of his tongue ratchets pleasure up Derek’s spine, each twist of his fist over the crown of his cock has him twitching and tensing.

“So good for me,” Stiles muttered, rubbing his face into the dampening skin of his partner’s thigh.

“Yes,” Derek breathed, not having any other words as his tongue pushes into his body, thumbs spreading him gently. “Guh,” he said elegantly, when Stiles pulled back to spit into him, rubbing with a thumb before returning with his mouth, licking and sucking at Derek’s rim.

Before long, Derek felt the thumbs sliding in, slick with spit, pressing through the ring of muscle to ease him open, Stiles pressing in even deeper.

“Fuck,” Derek curses, hand clenching where it rests, sweating, against the back of Stiles’ head, pulling him in close. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said louder, panting hard at the feeling of teeth dragging over sensitive skin.

“So good, Derek,” Stiles mumbled into his skin, sliding his mouth forward, over his hole, heavy balls and aching cock. His swollen lips wrapped around his cock, the color of obscenity as they slide down over him.

“Fuck, okay, just fuck me already,” Derek groaned, hands running restlessly over the set of his shoulders, fingers finding the gentle rise and fall of moles on his skin.

Stiles’ thumb slid inside, paired with a hard suck and Derek lost his breath, spine sparking. One loose-jointed hand pushed at Stiles’ forehead, popping his mouth off his cock. “Too close,” was the gasped explanation, pushed out on a hard exhale as Stiles’ thumb circled inside him before pulling away. Stiles leapt from the bed, one foot tangling in the bunched sheets, nearly landing on his face, in search of lube.

“It’s not in here,” he complained, digging through the bedside table. “Check yours.” Derek rolled to the side sliding open the drawer of the table on his side of the bed.

“Not in here,” he said, running one hand down his body, stroking himself lazily.

“Shit,” Stiles said, feeling under the edge of the mattress, biting his lips as he thought. “Where’d we leave it? When did we last use it?”

“Dunno,” Derek said, laying back, watching Stiles search. He disappeared from view, ducking to check under the bed.

“Ah ha!” he exclaimed, a dusty fist shooting into the air, clutching a half empty tube. He scrambled back onto the bed, dropping the lube onto the sheets and blanketing Derek’s skin with his own. They kissed, hotly, with a renewed desperation. Stiles’ hands gripped his partner with just a touch too much tension.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against his mouth, lips sliding against lips as he spoke.

“For what?” Derek asked, hands running down the strong curve of his back.

“I’ve neglected you,” Stiles said seriously, pulling back, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at his partner. Derek rolled his eyes dismissively, but Stiles continued. “No, really. I haven’t just been not spoiling you, I’ve neglected you.” The hand not supporting his weight was gesticulating widely. “Our lube was dusty. Our lube was lost and dusty. You were right, I am the worst.” Stiles’ lip went pouty, and Derek couldn’t help but leaning up to take it in his teeth. Stiles sighed against his mouth.

“I’m not neglected,” Derek assured, pulling Stiles down to him, nuzzling into the curve of his neck. “We’re parents, it happens.”

“It shouldn’t,” he replied petulantly.

“But it will,” Derek assured, hands stroking gently. “And we’ll be okay.” They kissed, mouths closed, gentle and firm. Melting into each others body’s, moving like they had all the time in the world.

“Let me make it up to you,” Stiles said hungrily, sliding back down Derek’s body. He knelt between his splayed legs, hands running eagerly up the fuzzy length of his thighs, eyeing him appreciatively. Derek lifted on foot and gave Stiles’ shoulder a gentle kick, directing him to get the lube.

When two fingers pressed against him, Derek gasped at the sharp stretch, his body tense and unyielding.

“Just one,” he said behind gritted teeth. “It’s been a while.”

“Shit, okay,” Stiles said, readjusting. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Derek groaned, taking in one thick-knuckled finger.

“Good?” Stiles asked after a moment, watching him with gorgeous, attentive eyes, drinking in the sight of Derek swallowing his finger, his cock twitching eagerly.

“Good, gimme another.” After the first one, Derek’s body relaxed easily, falling back into the familiar pleasure of being opened. Stiles other hand drifted restlessly over all the skin laid out before him, stroking his thigh, tugging at the hair on his stomach, playing with his flushed cock, oozing precome over his abs.

“You look so good like this,” his partner whispered, voice awestruck and reverent. “You always take it so well.” Derek grunted when the three fingers in him twisted in a particularly delicious way.

“I’m ready,” Derek said, voice already sounding wrecked, skin already dewy with sweat.

“Yeah,” Stiles said needlessly, words filling empty spaces even during sex. He knee walked closer, slicking himself up. He grabbed a pillow with a lubey hand and pushed it under Derek’s hips.

“You’re gonna have to wash that pillow case now,” Derek sighed.

“Ooh, talk dirty to me,” Stiles murmured, grinning at him, clean hand sliding soothingly over his thighs, spreading him further. Derek curved one leg around his partner’s waist, letting him hold the other aloft by the back of his knee.

Derek’s head pressed back into the bed with the first push in. He breathed out harshly, feeling every inch as he sunk slowly in.

“Breathe, babe, so good,” Stiles gasped down at him, leaning over to press kisses to Derek’s face, cheeks splotchy and forehead damp. “Fuck, so good.”

Derek groaned, ribcage rattling with the depth of it when Stiles bottomed out. They breathed into each other’s space, adjusting to the stretch, the tightness. Lips met in a clumsy distracted kiss as Stiles began a slow roll with his hips. Derek felt the flex of his muscles, in his back and in his ass, as he thrust smoothly, rolling like the tide.

Stiles sat up, hands moving to grip his partner by the hips, tilting gently until the next thrust lit up Derek’s spine, arching off the bed.

“There,” he gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets, one hand clinging to Stiles’ shoulder.

“I know,” he said breathily, smiling loosely, lips red and bitten. “It hasn’t been that long, I still know how to fuck you.”

“Prove it.”

That was all it took to for Stiles to start fucking him in earnest, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, rivaling the groans drug from their throats. Breathing became more and more labored as they rushed toward orgasm, sweat building on their skin, bodies moving together with heat and familiarity.

“Fuck, fuck, Derek,” Stiles panted out, head tossed back, fingers digging into the bone of his hip and the meat of his thigh. “God, you feel amazing.” Derek just growled in response, gums aching from holding in his fangs. His core felt molten, tensing with each thrust as it nailed his prostate, slamming into him, jolting him closer and closer to the edge.

“Christ, you look gorgeous,” Stiles said, the pale skin of his hip bones brushed pink from impact, fucking relentlessly into the heat of his lover. “You close? I wanna touch you.” His voice was low and tight with tension, panting hard, sweat dampening his hair.

Derek whined his response, hands flying to clamp down on Stiles’ knees where the nudged under the cradle of his hips, keeping him tilted at that perfect, shattering angle. Stiles wrapped a slick, long fingered hand around his weeping cock, squeezing tightly while Derek clenched down on him, a feedback loop of sensation pulling them higher and higher.

“Please,” Derek ground out, teeth gritted against the vibrations rocketing up his spine, lifting his back from the bed, pressing his throbbing cock into his partner’s hand.

“Yeah, Der, I got you,” Stiles panted distractedly, one arms looping under his hips, pulling his ass off the bed and flush with his hips, holding him at the perfect height to meet his thundering thrusts. His other hand slid quickly over his cock, playing with the head and slit with his thumb, wet with precome. Stiles’ arms shuddered where it held Derek’s weight, and Derek clamped his legs tight around his waist as orgasm started to spark in his belly.

Derek shot hard, body jolting in Stiles’ grip, coming in streaks onto his stomach and over Stiles’ knuckles. He growled and groaned, cutting his lip with his fangs, going rigid and then boneless as the tides of bliss drowned out his heaving breaths and pounding heart.

“Fucking finally, oh my God, you’re so good for me, so fucking good,” Stiles panted out, dropping Derek’s deadweight back onto the bed and following him down, wrapping himself around his limp and overheated body. Stiles rolled his forehead against his lovers chest, hips losing rhythm as he chased his own release, fucking Derek through the aftershocks and into his own orgasm.

His hands spasmed against Derek’s sides, steaking come on his skin and the sheets, and he moaned, grating his throat as he came inside his partner, marking and filling. He shuddered through it, mumbling nonsense praise into the sweaty skin of Derek’s chest.

They caught their breath in silence, Stiles eventually rolling to the side and sprawling out on the cool sheets.

“That was amazing,” Stiles finally said, one hand flopping around until he found Derek’s, fingers slipping together.

“Yeah,” Derek said simply, but the crack in his throat, dry from panting and moaning, offered a much more enthusiastic agreement.

“At the risk of sounding old and boring,” Stiles began, licking his dry lips and looking over at his partner. “I think we should start scheduling sex dates. I don’t ever want to go that long without sexing you up again.” Derek chuckling, lifting and arm for Stiles to slide in underneath, settling against his side, one hand lazily playing with the come cooling on his stomach.

“Okay,” Derek agreed, folding his fingers into Stiles’ comey ones, ignoring Stiles token protest of “gross.”

“Luckily, we have plenty of babysitter options,” Stiles hummed tiredly, thumb sweeping over Derek’s knuckles.

“You’re right,” Derek agreed easily, pulling his lover in closer, pressing a kiss into sweaty hair. He took a deep breath in through his nose, rubbing his cheek over his hair, scenting him.

It was quiet and peaceful, afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows. Stiles sighed happily against him.

“You’re right, I missed you a lot,” he said, chin propped on Derek’s ribs, smiling warmly at him. “Tara is the best and I love her, but you’re right, we haven’t had any us time.”

“We’ll adjust,” Derek said easily, heart content in his chest after getting some restorative skin to skin contact with his mate. “As long as we still have some days like today.”

“I promise,” Stiles said, craning his neck to peck a kiss against his lips. “I can spoil both of you.”

Derek curled into him, twining their legs together, their skin sticking pleasantly wherever they touched, salty and sweet with dried sweat and come, gently holding them together.

Maybe the days of breakfast in bed and sex marathons and flowers were behind them for now, but they’d still make time for this. Days like this, they would keep them going for years to come.

Derek settled in to sleep with a smile on his face, thinking that he couldn’t wait to see his daughter again.


End file.
